Three Hot Teas and a Biscuit
by Cearlya
Summary: Love blossoms over three cups of tea. They might possibly be hot, or that could be false advertising. Ron/Pansy
1. First cup

Three Hot Teas and a Biscuit is a work of fanfiction and I cannot be held liable for any resemblance to real people. The world is J.K. Rowlings but I do maintain the rights to the words that I use to play in it.

The setting of this story is drawn from my Draco/Hermione AU which can be found on my Deviantart account, and soon to be here. When I can work up the motivation and find the time.

Rating: T

part 1/4

Happy reading!

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Three Hot Teas and a Biscuit

Ron Weasley, upon being dumped by the self proclaimed love of his life Hermione Granger, proceeded to go on a three day bender and date a succession of witches in a whirlwind previously unseen in the wizarding world. Pansy Parkinson merely snorted, shook her head, and affirmed that she knew that he was a shameless ponce all along and avoided him like the plague as she had in all of her years at Hogwarts. When he broke up with his girlfriend loudly in the courtyard of Diagon Alley, Pansy declared that he was a bad seed, and proceeded to spread nasty rumors that he had contracted some sort of debilitating disease from the bint that made his nethers twist up in an unseemly fashion. Her friends called her brazen and Draco called her adorable. Pansy promptly punched Draco in the nose. Ron continued to date wholly unsuitable women for a variance of reasons one of which was that the girls he chose were extremely close in looks to his 'lost love' or attractive or both and he was making a name for himself that made the young witches giggle as he winked at them. Pansy was patently disgusted and vocally disapproved whenever he was around, making up fictitious lies that would have been damaging to his reputation if anyone would ever have believed them.

So when an exceptionally drunk Ron Weasley landed in her red silk covered lap at a social function that Pansy believed he had no right being at, but had been invited to because at one point he may have assisted in saving the world just a little bit and irritatingly enough had become fabulously wealthy because of it, Pansy decided to take action. Of course, Pansy taking action does not involve any sort of movement at all, but more a vicious tounge lashing that was succinct and to the point, explaining all of her hatred of him in a single sentence.

"You are a red haired, unattractive gorilla who comes from a poor upbringing." And then, because Pansy believed in being exceptionally truthful and clear, "I despise you and everything that you stand for and do not understand how you have people that like you."

Ron, for his part, merely smiled up at her because all he could gather from deep inside his alcoholic daze was that a girl with an extremely interesting nose was speaking to him. Pansy sighed, and, completely ignoring the fact that she massively disliked the man, knew that when you are that drunk, having a soft lap to rest on, could make a dreadful evening that much better and that he was not sober enough to recognize her or remember her face. She also relied on the fact that if or when the others at the party informed him that he had rested on Pansy Parkinson's voluptuous thighs, she could take the mickey out of him for the rest of his life and also declare that she was the better person for giving over on her dislike in a moment of humanity therefore causing him severe mental anguish in the future. That was the Slytherin in her, always thinking of the big picture.

"There he is!" The shout was relieved and came from the last place Pansy expected. Hermione Granger herself came flying out of the shadows as a burst of golden light and bushy hair as Draco loomed behind her in his tuxedo, giving Pansy a helpless look. Pansy felt no pity as she felt that he brought this on himself, and had told him so, at length, back when he was still pursuing the bint. Hermione stopped dead, her eyebrow wandering up to her hairline. "On...Pansy?"

"I don't know how he got there and disavow any willingness to participate in this behavior." Pansy said smartly and promptly. She surreptitiously tried to shove the boy off of her lap but it was like trying to shove over a redwood tree log, theoretically it should be possible, but he was just too Merlin cursed heavy. She merely shoved his fat head a little and he groaned. To her horror, he then began to snuggle into her thighs, stroking her knees and murmuring something into the patch of skin near his lips as they passed over the silk. She looked up at Draco, stricken with terror, who finally ceased to find this amusing and hoisted the larger man up. Hermione flittered around the two men, wringing her hands.

"Oh dear, I have to stay here, and so does Draco, is there anyway you could take him home?" Hermione asked, looking up at Pansy appealingly. Pansy considered shouting at the woman that she had a lovely boyfriend, would she please stop trying to seduce a fellow woman when she realized that Hermione wasn't trying to seduce her that was just the way that she was. She gave her best friend such a look full of pity for, at this rate, his sanity was likely to be reduced to a state of sitting in a chair and stroking kittens for the rest of his life. He didn't do well with being managed. Pansy tried to look more conflicted about this than she really was, considering the blackmail opportunities that presented themselves with this single night and Hermione gave a snort. "Pansy, don't think for one moment that I don't know that you are planning on doing something dreadful to him and taking pictures, but at least I can trust you to get him home safe, if wholly humiliated."

"How could you ever think that would be so?" Pansy asked, her horror turning and lending itself a mocking edge. True, the thought had crossed her mind, but such a plebeian answer to a humiliation such as she had just suffered was not acceptable and she needed something much more calculating. She placed her hands together and tapped the pads of her fingers together, staring at the man hanging around Draco's neck. "Hmmmmm."

"I'll take that as a yes. Draco, please help her." Hermione ordered in that bossy way of hers that made Draco roll his eyes but comply. Pansy, as she accepted Ron's arm around her shoulder, and his head rolling against her neck, sniggered and ducked as Draco tried to harm her in some way or another while he avoided dropping Ron so he would not incur the wrath of Hermione. Pansy rolled her eyes, and, in a swish of skirts, apparated herself to her home, barely managing to stagger to catch her balance before falling on Ron, on the sofa. She lay on him for a few moments, her head pillowed on his chest before daring to move as she was unsure her knees would support her. She apparently waited a few moments too long as his fuzzy head realized that there was a woman on top of him and he clasped his arms around her tightly.

"Well, hello there." He murmured into her ear, his lips tickling the fine hairs as his breath stirred across them.

"Sexual assault!" Pansy shrieked and, no longer tired and struggling with the larger man's arms looped around her waist, contemplated kneeing him somewhere painful but she was pretty sure that that was covered under Hermione's no harming policy and she didn't want to others to think that it was the only way she could come up with to get away. Instead, she bit down, chomping through thin fabric to get a good hunk of skin. He yelped and jumped up, leaving her to fall on the ground with a crash.

"What the-?!" Rubbed his eyes and then continued on in a scandalized voice, "Pansy?"

"Ow, you rotter! Yes it is me." Now one may think that Pansy would insult Ron until the sun set at the end of the day, but she wouldn't dare do it to his face, but, as previously mentioned, she had always been very clear and direct. "I was taking you home as per Hemione's orders and Draco's puppy eyes and you attempt to assault me for my troubles. You miserable piece of refuse."

"What?" Ron rubbed at his eyes with the heel of his hand. His brain was trying to work through all of what happened. He paled, taking a moment to consider his ruffled clothes, hers dissarranged and her hair falling from where it was held in place by golden clips. "Oh bollocks did I-?"

"What, you oversized gorilla?"

"Did I take-advantage- of you?" His voice was a whisper and Pansy stared at Ron's face as he openly flushed red. She let her lips twist into a satisfied smirk and stood up to bat her eyes at him.

"Why, Ron, wasn't it good for you too, sweetheart?" He immediately went fuschia, then purple, then very, very green. Clearly he was easily manipulated when he was drunk. Pansy couldn't keep it together and fell back onto the couch, laughing, Ron, by increments, relaxed. "Ron, you are so prejudiced against me, there is no way you would ever kiss me, no matter how drunk you are."

"You can't take the moral high ground, Pansy." Ron said wearily, putting his head in his hands. Pansy stiffened with affront.

"Why not? Because I'm a Slytherin?" Pansy shouted, waving her arms like a windmill as she turned a dull red, fueling her anger with his hot air. "At least I have never killed or permanently disfigured anyone!"

"What is that supposed to mean?" Ron asked.

"The name Marietta Edgecomb mean anything to you?" Pansy stood up again to approach the same level of height as Ron, but considering that he was about a good six inches taller than her even in her three inch heels, it was not exceptionally effective. "She cannot leave without wrapping her face, those pustules that Hermione gave her will never heal. She will live with that curse for the rest of her life.

"Marietta?" Ron asked, his brows crunching together, trying to place the name.

"Remember way back to our school days. Your silly Dumbledore's Army. She told Umbrage because she was scared and breaking the rules. She did what she thought was right, obeying authority and now she can't leave the house without a scarf at least. " Ron stared at Pansy and not just because her chest was heaving with the venom in her voice. "You three ruined a girl's life when she was a child because you thought you were right."

"I-I didn't know."

"You didn't care." Pansy spat it out, and Ron flinched. "You were the 'Golden Trio'; everyone's heros. You haven't ever had to deal with the complete ostracization of your peers due to your parents politics."

"What about what you all did to my family?" Ron shouted.

"That was when we were children, we are supposed to be grown up now." Pansy snorted with derision, making quite clear her stance on that issue in relation to him. "And how does that even remotely make it acceptable? You get a little of your own back by making it so that I cannot even get a job in England, not to mention London? Does that make you happy?"

"What are you on about?" Ron asked quarrelsomely.

"Your lovely brother, the one half of the horrid twins that lost his ear but kept his life-" Pansy knew from Ron's face as it contorted with rage and sorrow that if she were a man, he would have reached over and punched her in the face, but she wholeheartedly thought it was a truth he needed to hear. "He went around to every business that I applied to and spread lies. He refused to deal with my section until I was sacked because they needed his product more than they needed me. I have to move to France to get a job, where no one has heard of Voldemort, Harry Potter, or the war."

"George wouldn't do something like that, I'm sure." Ron scoffed.

"Open your eyes, Ron. He and his brother shoved Montague into a broken Vanishing closet. It was tantamount to murder for docking points. Points! When they fished him out, he was almost starved to death and frozen. His parents took him out of school and he didn't come back the next year either."

"He was evil!"

"He was following the rules and your brothers tried to kill him."

"He was enforcing bad rules, he should have known there would have been consequences!"

"Oh lovely, that makes it all right to kill him!" Pansy rolled her eyes. She held out her hands palm up and then clasped them to her chest. "Moral high ground, you are mine."

"How can you even say that? You wanted to let them kill Harry." Ron accused as Pansy went very, very still.

"You may have stood up against the Dark Lord many times in the past, but the rest of us were merely children. Harry Potter has some freakish ability to survive. Had we given him over in the beginning, I do not see how that would have done anything but save lives. I leave you with a single name. Colin Creevy." Pansy felt that glowing feeling of triumph as Ron's face crumpled. She felt a little bad about plucking that emotional string, but it proved her point that he was looking at the entire situation out of the eyes of a single lensed child. He turned away sharply, but not before she saw the telltale hitch . When she spoke, it was sharper than she meant with disbelief. "Are you...crying?"

"No!" He replied just as scathingly as he rubbed his fists in his eyes quickly and blinking furiously. Pansy was appalled for two reasons, one being that she didn't actually mean to make him cry, and the second, it was because he was crying. She swiftly came to the conclusion that he was drunker than Merlin's liver, as he was blubbering like walrus, rather like Malfoy had a tendency to after he'd had more than a few. Pansy never had high opinions of Malfoy's snuffling either, being of the opinion that one should cry and get it over with, forgetting the silly concept of manly pride.

"Look, I think I took that one a bit far, and it really isn't fair to get into a moral argument when you are three sheets to the wind." Though, at this point, Pansy was keen to swear that it was more like four or five, but she wasn't going to much blame him as the schnapps were delicious and after the first one, your tongue went numb and you couldn't taste the alcohol. Ron wouldn't be the only one waking up with an aching head, as Pansy thought she was the only sober one at the party. This theory would also explain why Hermione thought that sending Ron home with her was a good plan. "How about I make you a cuppa and then take you home."

"A cup of tea sounds fantastic." Ron answered, relieved that she wasn't going to make fun of him nor push the issue. Pansy shrugged.

"Regular, all right?"

"Spiffing." Ron said, attempting a weak smile.

"Well, take a seat." She motioned towards her kitchen set which had two chairs, one slightly used and one so new that it squeaked. Ron took the squeaky seat.

There was awkward silence as the water heated, until Ron broke it.

"You looked lovely tonight." He mentioned it lightly, resorting back to his fail safe with girls which was to compliment them, as he traced the grain of the wood on her table top.

"Ron, please!" Pansy said, scandalized. Ron peered up at her appealingly. It was easy to see where Hermione got her tricksy ways.

"I mean it! That really is a lovely color on you."

"Please stop. This is my favorite dress and I don't want to have to burn it." Secretly, Pansy was pleased. She wasn't pretty, her nose saw to that, pug and making her look as though she had run into a wall as a child and it had stuck that way. There were no spells or magical ways to fix it and when she suggested that muggle rhinoceros surgery, her mother fainted dead away, woke to tell her that she would be disowned if she tried and then fainted again. That episode didn't stop her from fantasizing though, which she did at every available opportunity. Pansy, stared at the hot water heater willing it to boil faster under the force of her glare as Ron continued to trace the grain with his fingertip. The pot began to whistle and she snatched it off the stove, filling up the first teacup that she saw, her favorite.

She placed the tea in front of him and took the chair on the other side of the table, putting it between them. The silence stretched far into the awkward before Ron broke it.

"The weather is supposed to be nice this week." His voice had just a hint of desperation.

"You don't say." Pansy politely mumbled into her teacup.

"Should be pleasant, warm weather."

"Mmmm." Pansy didn't even dignify him with words, merely a sound and she nearly flinched when he started turning the cup by the handle, creating the unmistakable sound of china grinding against each other. Ron groaned and gripped the handle harder.

"Damn it Pansy! I'm trying here!" Ron shouted, slamming his teacup onto the saucer and the tell tale sound of breaking china rang out. Pansy stood slowly, leaning forward on her palms.

"Weasley, do you have a pathalogical need to please women?" Weasley's face contorted, trying to keep in a giggle at her unfortunate wording and Pansy gave him a disgusted look. "Don't be so asinine, do you need to feel as though everyone likes you?"

"No, But I really try." His grin stretched into Cheshire cat territory. "Especially with women."

Pansy refused to let herself smile but felt the tug on her lips as they wanted to curl. To rein it in, all she had to do was look down at the sadly cracked teacup. "That was my favorite."

He stared at the cup for a moment and then looked up at her with kicked puppy eyes. Her instinctive need to dominate the situation was the impetus for her to stand, but it backfired when he was proffered the opportunity to use his most powerful weapon in his arsenal of tricks, looking up through ginger lashes.

"I'm sorry." He said softly, nudging Pansy's anger out of the way for her efficiency.

"You are leaking on my table." She turned away, firmed her lips and grabbed the trash can to sweep the porcelein into the can. Ron gently brushed her hands aside and swept the destroyed china into the can she held.

"Careful of sharp edges."

"It's china."

"Still." Pansy gave him an aggrieved look, but he maintained firm.

"Go home." Pansy said tightly, nearly spilling the trash as she jerked it away. "The Floo powder is on the mantle."

Pansy slammed the trash can on the counter and stalked to her room, closing the door firmly. Ron stood for a m moment, bewildered as a puppy that just was hit on the nose with a rolled up newspaper for the first time. Pansy's door remained shut and Pansy herself tucked the pillow over her head to sleep, not even bothering to remove her beautiful red dress, wrinkling it beyond repair.


	2. Second cup

Three Hot Teas and a Biscuit is a work of fanfiction and I cannot be held liable for any resemblance to real people. The world is J.K. Rowlings but I do maintain the rights to the words that I use to play in it.

Rating: T

part 2/4

Happy reading!

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Three Hot Teas and a Biscuit

Second cup...

It took Pansy at least four months to become accustomed to living in an apartment in France. Her neighbors were welcoming enough, an artist living with this governmental official girlfriend and an aspiring actress or model, Pansy was unsure which, though it did mean that men and women were in and out of her apartment at odd hours. Pansy's apartment was modest, well within her means, and decorated with fine art and collectibles.

Her weekends were always lazy, involving the sun, her chair, a cup of coffee, and moving as little as humanly possible. Everyone knew not to disturb her if they wanted to retain any amount of dignity from the flaying of her razor sharp tongue which had managed to reduce many a telemarketer and door to door salesperson to a ball of gibbering tears.

So when the doorbell rang at ten o'clock on the aforementioned taboo morning, she gathered herself together regally and prepared to rip the offender to shreds.

She opened the door to Ron's far too chipper countenance.

"Hallo Pansy, I'm in France for a couple of weeks. Can I stay here?"

Pansy promptly shut the door in his face.

"Pansy! Pansy at least hear me out!" His voice had a thrill of panic, muffled by the closed door. She could hear a dull thud of him hitting the door, but she ignored it and went back to her pleasant morning.

"Pansy, please?" She could hear him ask quietly, but she continued drinking her coffee, completely unperturbed. A glance at the clock reminded Pansy of her meeting time with a friend. She stared at the door for a moment and then opened the window to climb out of the fire escape. She got one leg out the window when the phone rang. Climbing over the sill in her tight knee length skirt had been challenging, but climbing back in time to catch the phone was neigh impossible. When she reached it, she was breathless.

"Hello?" Pansy fought to pull her skirt down modestly over her knees as she cradled the phone by her ear.

"Ah-Lo darling!" Draco's voice chimed over the handset. Pansy relished the feeling that she could hang up right now and there was nothing Draco could do about it unless he wanted to get an international Floo license and track her down. She knew what was coming and wasn't sure she wanted to hear it as the reason for the cordial greeting was currently still knocking and calling outside her door. "Pansy, are you still there?"

"No." Pansy said, answering his real question before he asked. She could imagine the look of crushing defeat on her best frien'ds face and she felt her lips curl involuntarily.

"I take it he is there?" Draco laughed and muffled the phone to call out to someone. She could only assume was Hermione. He was still chuckling when he returned. "He got there fast."

"He is banging on my door momentarily." Pansy strung out the phone as far as it would go so Draco could hear Ron on the other end.

"He's got a set of lungs on him, doesn't he?" Draco held a grin in his voice.

"He's ruining my morning, Draco." Pansy's voice turned desperate.

"You could just let him stay." Draco's voice turned wheedling and if Pansy hadn't hardened her heart to his sly ways years ago, she would have capitulated immediately.

"Has he ever heard of a thing called a hotel?" Pansy asked, twirling the curly cord around her finger.

"He needs something unlinked to his name. If he used his credit card, he could be tracked. He has no cash due to his somewhat hasty departure." Draco's voice turned serious and Pansy plugged her ear not connected to the phone. "If you could get him under wraps for a few weeks, I think it'll all blow over."

"What did he do, kill someone?" If he had, she might have let him in just to shout at him that she was rightfully holding the moral high ground. However, if that were the case, she would also rightfully hold her wand and an Adava kedavra moments from her lips. If she accidentally killed him, Pansy was quite certain that the Ministry would accept his dead body as grounds for non-extradition for murder. Upon this thought process, Pansy pleaded into the phone, "Please tell me he killed someone."

"No, nothing so drastic. Remember that bint he publicly broke up with a few months back?"

"And by broke up with, you mean publicly humiliated, correct?" Pansy definitely recalled that incident. She had been drinking coffee with a friend when it happened and had summarily made up nasty rumors about the girl, partly because it was funny, and partly because a stray bit of the raw magic the girl was tossing about caught her cup of coffee and made it wander off while she wasn't looking. She had been short tempered the entire rest of the day.

"Yes, well, there were some perfectly awful rumors going around about the fact that she made certain parts of him shrivel up." Draco said it accusingly and Pansy examined her blood red nails nonchalantly. "She got it in her head that he was responsible and started stalking him. He moved from Westchester to Scotland with Hermione and I and she followed him, Pansy."

"How terrifying." Pansy murmured, flicking her eyes to the door, drumming her fingernails on the counter.

"Pansy, I know that he is a stupid gorilla oaf who broke your teacup, but he really needs your help right now." The unspoken admonishment that it was her rumors that started all this sat in the corner like a highly embarrassed pink and purple elephant. Pansy attempted to release a mouse to scare it away. "If he stayed here, he could try to ravish me in my sleep. You know his womanizing ways."

"You have a lock on your bedroom and a very nice couch that almost broke my back when I helped you move in." Pansy made a moue of unhappiness as she stared at her enormous plush red velvet couch. When moving in, Draco had almost dropped the couch as one of her Muggle neighbors wandered by. "Pansy, please. Hermione isn't sleeping well, knowing that he is in danger. Also, I wish Harry Potter would stop hanging around and go away. It is very hard to have a sex life with the four eyes moping around the place."

"So selfish." Pansy said affectionately. The Draco she knew and loved had been gone for so long that she was about to fill in a missing person's report.

"Yes, now go open your damned door and take care of him like an abandoned puppy."

"Sod off, you pillock." Pansy hung up and went to open her door. She slouched her shoulders and rolled her eyes before turning the handle.

Ron must have been resting against the door because as soon as she turned the knob, he tumbled through the doorway and took her down with him. They crashed to the floor inelegantly and Pansy smashed her elbow and rear.

"Oowtch." Pansy groaned, rubbing at her elbow as Ron lifted his head to grin at her.

"Sorry, are you all right?"

"I think I'm broken." Pansy mumbled. Ron hopped off of her and reached out to drag in a large bag that looked like it was what he used when he ran away to camp in seventh year. "Oh that's so sweet,you brought your home with you, you don't even need my couch.

"Har har, very cute. I do appreciate you letting me stay, though." Ron said, plopping into the cushions and, struggling with his shoes, he nearly vanished into the coach.

"Watch out, the couch eats people." Pansy said, standing with the help of a gracious hand stretched out from the gorilla.

"I heard that Malfoy finally learned how to use the felly tone."

"Yes, well, France isn't connected with the Floo network and he lives to be Hermione's pet project." Pansy snorted, picking up the phone to punch in her jilted friend's number. In a rapid exchange of French which Ron had no chance of decoding, she informed her friend that a pest had barged into her apartment in a mild infestation. Ron smiled blithely on as he groped for the remote to change the channel for something that he understood, but it eluded him as it was all in French. Pansy submitted to couch digestion and sat next to him, crossing her arms and firming her lips. "How long are you here?"

"A few weeks at least." Ron smiled blindingly at her and she felt a thrill of panic that hit her knees in a shockwave. A few weeks of him living with her did not seem all that appetizing, as there would invariably be altercations. "You'll hardly notice I'm here."

"I highly doubt that." Pansy allowed herself to be absorbed completely by the couch, letting her dread drag her down.

For two weeks, his words rang true and they established a routine. Pansy would rise for work, shower, and Ron would wait for her to leave for work before even daring to venture off the sofa. He explored France by day and spent copious amounts of money that Hermione and Harry, cosigners on some of his smaller accounts, sent him. He saw it as an extended vacation. She saw it as an exercise in patience, virtue and resistance to torture. Pansy was, by nature, a solitary being and so being forced to share her space with someone she didnt' even particularly like was like stabbing herself repetitively with a butter knife.

"Are you sleeping with 'im?" Her neighbor asked puffing on her cigarette while leaning over to reach her pinky toe with her purple polish. After giving her an openly horrified look, Pansy stared jealously as her neighbor's hair slid smoothly over her should as she lay over her long legs. Mariné leaned back and wiggled her toes to dry them faster. "Why not? He is tall, good body, red haired and sun kissed all over."

Pansy made an indignant noise that probably orginated from a large river in Egypt. Mariné ignored her. Pansy considered informing Mariné that the red hair and the so called 'sun kisses' were a disease. One that Pansy had no intention of contracting.

"He is gorgeoso!" Mariné said, giving a delighted shiver.

"Looks are a poor substitute for personality and substance...And money. Lots and lots of money." Pansy's lips curled into a smirk as she imagined a life of ease and pleasure.

"Well this Weasel-ly boy, he appears to be very rich." Mariné nudged Pansy and Pansy gave her an appalled look.

"Stolen, I'm sure. He absolutely has poor in his blood." Pansy said with distaste. She waved her hands ineffectually to dry her nails.

"Strange, he brings me back trinkets every day." Mariné jingled her arm and a single gold band fell over her wrist. It was the sort of thing that Pansy abhorred and she wrinkled her nose. "See, every day he asks me if I think you would like it. When I answer non, he gives it to me."

Pansy snorted with disbelief. Mariné tossed her hair over her shoulder and smiled coyly up at her friend. "Don't worry mon ami, if it is something you would really like I will send it on."

"Please spare me." Pansy said despairingly. It looked like she was going to have to make it very clear that amorous attentions were entirely unwelcome. She glared at the door as Ron burst into Mariné's apartment.

"I've got it! This time I-" He froze in mid jump for joy and goggled at Pansy. "What are you doing here?"

"Painting my nails, what are you doing?" Pansy blew on her nails, eying him as he shifted.

"Ummmm. Um. Um. Um." He glanced wildly at Mariné who chuckled throatily in her saucy French way. Pansy rolled her eyes and capped her nail polish. She stood regally and brushed herself off, stalking out with her nose in the air. Ron gave her that look again the one that reminded her of a devastated puppy and she felt a slight twinge way down in the atrophied recesses of her conscience. Ron waited until she slammed the door shut behind her.

"I've got it." Ron said, reaching into his bag. He pulled out a ruby necklace that was cased in gold. Mariné stared at him and then sauntered over to twine herself around him.

"She doesn't want you, my darling little weasel. Come move here with me." Mariné purred in his ear and his grin stretched across his face.

"She doesn't want me yet, m'dear." Ron gently removed Mariné's arms. "The yet keeps me going."

'Why are you so attracted to her?" Mariné tried to avoid a pout, but she failed for the most part.

"How can you not be?" Ron smiled disarmingly and Mariné found herself being jealous of Pansy, which she never thought would ever happen. Mariné sighed and Ron patted her head as she slid her arms around his neck.

"It's lovely, she's going to love it. I do appreciate the leftovers, I swear."

"Thanks for your help, Mariné." Ron kissed her forehead and slid out from her grasp again.

"Anytime my little weasel." Mariné sighed again and as he left, she jangled the bracelet. "Ron?" She called him back. "This is the first gift, I have been given without any expectations, even if it is second choice. Thank you."

"Pretty gifts for a pretty lady." Ron winked as he backed out. Mariné smiled and cradled the bracelet to her chest.

When Ron came back to Pansy's apartment, she made him wait outside the door for a few minutes first, pretending not to hear him. When she opened the door for him, he could smell lasagna in the oven.

"Dinner is in five minutes." Pansy turned up her music, classical, and filled the apartment with the sounds of a full orchestra. Ron reached over and switched the radio off. Pansy glared at him and pushed past to turn it back on and he strung out a necklace, deftly clasping it behind her as she passed. She froze and looked down as a beautiful ruby necklace dropped onto her collarbone, winking in the low light of her apartment. It would be brilliant in the sun.

"I found this in a little out of the way shop and I know it's your favorite color." He waved expansively to encompass her red based apartment. "I know I can't replace that damned teacup and Merlin knows I've tried, but I wanted to apologize and say thank you for letting me stay."

"Oh." Pansy said, looking at it. She turned it in the light, admiring it as something softened inside her. Ron stepped into her personal space and for the first time, she didn't back away. It wasn't the fact that it was expensive, people gave her expensive gifts all the time, it was the fact that it was very well thought out and he had obviously taken a few tries to get it right. It was different from her mother and father's presents which she had always invariably hated, and always came on the heels or immediately proceeded a demand for correct behavior. It was highly demeaning in her eyes to be seen that she could be bought and sold with pretty objects, so much so that she almost never accepted gifts anymore. She smiled up at him and his heart clenched as it was so rare and precious that he savoured it's warmth. "Thank you."

They ate dinner in their usual silence, accompanied by the sounds of Stravinski and Rachmaninoff. Pansy gave him his tea that he had previously proved to be incapable of making. The hot water heater bamboozled him and she lacked a kettle or any means of magically heating the water. He generally followed her around like a puppy until she made it for him.

After, she came out of her room and Ron nearly fell of the coach he was stretched out on. Her dress consisting of a corset and sleeves emphasized her curves and her girls rounded scandalously. Ron, used to model thin girls, stared openly and breathlessly at the ample skin displayed in an almost haphazard but secretly very careful fashion. Her hair swept off of her neck and up in long curls on the one side of her angular face making it softer and more approachable. Her dress was of course red, he didn't think she owned any other color cocktail dress. Ron scrambled up to get her coat as she had an intense argument with her shoe ties before lacing them up her legs.

"Where are you headed to, and may I escort you?" Ron asked eagerly. Pansy stopped and surveyed him.

"I am allowing you to preside in my home due to charity, a warm heart, and clearly a masochistic nature." And guilt though she certainly wasn't going to mention that one aloud. "This does not mean that we are friends or anything you might otherwise delude yourself into hallucinating." She accepted her coat.

"Your impersonation of a butler has been satisfactory and for your information, I have a date with a lovely Frenchman I met at the bakery last week." Pansy took down her scarf and wrapped it carefully, stalling at his touch.

"Don't go." Ron said softly, twining a curl around his finger. Pansy slapped at his hand irritably.

"Don't tell me what to do." Pansy snapped, punching the buttons of her coat through the buttonholes.

"I'm not telling, I'm asking." Ron murmured, stepping even closer. Pansy pushed her hands to his chest to ward him off and he covered them with his own to pull her closer. He tangled his fingers in the necklace which she still had on and crushed his lips to hers.

Pansy hadn't been kissed in a very long time. She was hoping to change that tonight so that she would stop watching whenever Ron licked his lips. Or bit them. Or ate anything really though she'd learned that peaches and strawberries were particularly tortuous. Because of this lack of proper kissing on which Pansy blamed her moment of temporary insanity, she kissed him back. Briefly. Hardly for a fraction of a second, really.

Far too soon, in Ron's opinion, she was struggling to free herself, beating at him with ineffectual fists for a moment before bringing her knee up and then slamming her stiletto heel into his foot with a satisfying crunch.

Ron released her and recoiled in pain, howling curses. Pansy put her back to the wall, panting, and opened the door carefully.

"You leave. You leave right now. I want you gone tonight!" Pansy said warningly, backing out her door with an umbrella she grabbed from her hand held in a perfect fencer's grip.

"Pansy," Ron pleaded, his hands grasping for her.

"No! I mean it!" She shouted, slamming the door in his face. She hissed through it, though she was certain he would hear it. "If you are still here when I get back, I will use my wand and you will find out how many of those dark curses I did learn and how many were rumors. When I am done, you will fear me far more than you ever feared those silly brains."

With that, she turned on her heel and stalked off. She had a lovely date with Pierre, came home and stayed with Mariné to be safe. When she returned home the next morning, all evidence of Ron living with her had been erased except for a single cup of tea, congealed and cold, rotting away on the table.


	3. Third cup

Three Hot Teas and a Biscuit is a work of fanfiction and I cannot be held liable for any resemblance to real people. The world is J.K. Rowlings but I do maintain the rights to the words that I use to play in it.

The setting of this story is drawn from my Draco/Hermione AU which can be found on my Deviantart account, and soon to be here. When I can work up the motivation and find the time.

Oh, and you can brag to the people on DA about getting this before them, I refuse to update it until the entire story is done...

Rating: T

part 3/4

Happy reading!

* * *

Third cup...

The next time Ron met Pansy, she was completely plastered and draped bonelessly over the bar of the Leaky Cauldron. She was wearing a short jean skirt and knee high boots, with a filmy blouse that threatened to be see through with any amount of moisture and her hair was falling out of the bun she had thrown it up in. When she looked up at him blearily, he could see that her eyes had dark circles under them and were bloodshot.

"Merlin, woman, what happened to you?" Ron asked, sliding onto the stool next to her with a worried look on his face. He hadn't seen her in months, but he'd heard stories of all that she'd been up to. She had been in that scandal in France and had come home in pieces but he'd still been banned from her presence. It was only in this great time of need that he was released.

"Nothing." She said, tipping over sideways and almost spilling her drink. She peered nearsightedly at him and spluttered. "What are you doin' here?"

"Draco sent me." Ron hesitated before putting his hand on her shoulder. She shrugged violently, trying to dislodge his hand so he lifted it before gently replacing it. She didn't shake her shoulder again. "Do you need anything?"

"Bastard. No." Pansy said, but it warbled, and was less sure. Ron retracted his hand and put his elbows on the bar. He sat next to her in silence as she stared at the ice while she swirled it in her drink.

"You know, I really liked you when I was five." Pansy blurted out, not raising her eyes when Ron looked at her in surprise. She turned suddenly and sloshed his arm with her drink. "Because I loved your hair. It's red. I like red."

"I hadn't noticed." Ron said dryly. He froze as she traced a finger clumsily down his sideburns, then beard. Pansy made a face. "Hated the freckles."

"Pansy," Ron asked, stilling her exploration of his face with a soft hand. "Pansy, why do you hate me?"

"You called me a cow." She hiccuped and then made an alarming noise like she was about to lose her dinner all over him. He only relaxed when she moved her hand and began to speak again. "I went to say hello because I remembered you from childhood and you were laughing with stupid Potty about how I looked like a- like a!" She hiccuped again but this one was accompanied by a burst of tears. To be fair, she had sort of looked like one as a child, but the years had softened her face handsomely.

"What if I said that I found you the most delightfully, delicious person, now?" Ron asked, smiling crookedly.

"You're lying." She wailed, hiding her head in the crook of her elbow.

"I'm not." Ron smiled crookedly even though he knew she couldn't see it and his smile carried through his voice. "I've been thinking about what it would be like to shag you up against a wall ever since we met at that party."

"That's disgusting." Pansy sounded intrigued. She tried to put her head on her hand and missed, smacking her nose against the table. Ron surged forward and put his hand under her head so she had something soft to rest against and she put her forehead on his hand. "Why're you being honest?"

"Because I'm quite frankly surprised that you are able to remain on that bar stool and have absolutely no doubts that you will not remember this in the morning." Ron grinned at her as he slowly eased his hand out from under her head to rest it gently on the bar. She began to snore. He asked the bartender, "How long has she been here?"

"'Fore my shift. I came in at the eighth bell and she was nursin' a skinny o'somethin' that looked like water. She was grousin' and carryin' on about some frog over in Paris." He shrugged and took the empty glass away efficiently before leaning over to look at the woman who was moaning sickly on top of Ron's hand. "She looks more sheets to the wind than an Abbey full of sick little 'uns."

"Yes, I believe she is. I've heard she doesn't drink often." Ron stood, and got her coat off of the rack. The bartender looked like he was about to object and bit his lip when Ron put down a handful of Galleons.

"Now see here, young'un. How do I know you'll get 'er home safe?" The bartender was suspicious of a man that showed up to take a rather attractive and dead drunk lady home. Ron smiled at his protectiveness and handed him one of his business cards. They were magically protected in order to not be counterfeited and registered to the Ministry.

"My name is Ron Weasley, and if you have any questions, you can contact Harry Potter, as he will vouch for me. This is Pansy Parkinson. I've been charged by her best friend, Draco Malfoy to get her home safe." The bartender scrutinized the card carefully, nodding slowly as Ron name dropped. "She has been missing since last Tuesday after she got the assault papers from her lawyer to sign them. You read the gossip rags."

The bartender nodded carefully, remembering the glaring headlines that appeared in everywhere but the Quibbler which considered itself above all that. _Socialite Pansy Parkinson comes home after scandal with French Casanova_ every newspaper screamed. The picture showed her descending the stairs carefully and hiding from the cameras that were shoved in her face. The populace did so love a juicy gossip story.

Very few people knew the whole story and even fewer saw the aftermath of scratches and bruises that she retained after she fought her attacker off with her nails before being able to reach her wand. She had never been very good at wandless magic. It had been all that Draco and Harry could do to sit on Ron as Hermione and Ginny plied him constantly with chess and food in order to keep him from going after the man in question, a certain Pierre of the red corset dress. Ron blamed himself that he hadn't stopped her and it took Draco explaining that he needed to be with _Pansy_ at the moment, not stopping him from doing something stupid, that made him wait patiently with Harry gripping his arm at all times. When Ginny won against in chess him three times in a row, she had bashed him over the head with the board and demanded that he go find Pansy in order to help her instead of seeking revenge. Harry had stopped his wife from killing her brother by only the barest of margins. It was a very close thing.

"All right mate, but even so, she's a bit broke up so take a bit of care for the bint." The bartender accepted Ron's galleons and frowned as he watched Ron pick Pansy up off of the bar. He didn't do it like a prince, whisking her away in a bridal hold, no, it was much more simple with her arm around his neck and his arm around her waist.

By the time they staggered into Ron's flat, Pansy was coming around, swearing halfheartedly into his shoulder where she had rolled. They weren't even the least bit vitriolic like he was expecting, but more as though swearing was her one true form of self expression as she had no access to acceptable words. He found it endearing. Had she been cognizant, Pansy would have found it frustrating and utterly humiliating as she had long ago decided that words were her one true friend. They lurched towards his bedroom and collapsed on the bed in a tangle of limbs.

"C'mon dearie, hup hup into the bed." Ron laid her back gently, pushing her legs onto the bed. She groaned and rolled over. Ron ran his hands around her shins to find the zipper of her boots. He unzipped them carefully and eased them off, gliding his hand up her legs to take off her knee length socks. Pansy grumbled slightly and without warning, sat up.

"It's hot." She mumbled, dragging off her shirt, leaving her in just a camisole which dipped in places that it shouldn't, showing off a fair bit of black lacy bra. Ron paused for a moment to consider if she was wearing a matching undergarment, and then shook his head, disappointed with his lapse of gentlemanly behavior. Pansy threw herself backwards onto his bed, bouncing on the pillow. Ron tucked her legs under his covers and then pulled the covers up to her chin, effectively tucking her in. He smiled fondly at her, and stroked her hair out of her eyes.

The first thing Ron did after leaving her was to Floo Draco. When the other responded on his side, he looked like he'd had a rough night.

"Please tell me you have good news?" Draco's voice was desperate.

"Relax, I've got her. She's safe. She's tucked up in my bed momentarily, I'll take her home tomorrow." Ron said, crouching down to talk to his nemesis turned friend more comfortably.

"Thank Merlin." Draco rubbed his eyes with a hand, fighting off sleepiness with relief. "Where was she?"

"Leaky Cauldron. Like you said, she went back there." Ron said, draping his arms over his knees.

"Thank you for going in my stead. The reporters and press still won't let me or Hermione out of our house. Thank god your name was never linked to hers." Draco's head was displaced by Hermione's worried one.

"Is she really okay?" Hermione asked, concerned. Her and Pansy had formed a tentative peace and Hermione could never say no to a cause, making Pansy a special project in this newest scandal.

"She was drunker than Merlin's liver when I found her, and she's currently passed out on my bed, but we'll see how she'll be in the morning." Ron said, and Hermione's face was pushed out of the way to be filled with Draco's concerned one.

"You touch her tonight, I kill you." Draco said plainly.

"Draco!" Hermione's voice came through, appalled.

"Not a hair on her head, I swear it." Ron said, dipping a bow with his hand over his heart. As he was doing so, Pansy wandered into the room and Ron fell back onto his elbows, staring. She had removed all of her clothing except for her underthings. Fancy that, they did match, and the black lace boy shorts were rather fetching.

The look on Draco's face would have been priceless had it not elicited an absolute panic on Ron's part. Ron put his hands up from where he was crumpled on the floor, and denied desperately, "I have no idea why her clothes are off! She was wearing them all-" Ron frowned, considering, "Most- when I put her to bed!"

"Most?!" Draco shrieked like the drama queen that he was.

"She'd taken off her shirt, but she had on another underneath and I took off her boots and socks but that's all I swear!" Ron waved his hands ineffectually, insistent that he was innocent. He stood quickly, grabbing Pansy's shoulders and refusing to look down. "Pansy, what are you doing? Where are your clothes?"

"I got hot." Pansy said simply, shoving his chest hard and pushing him away from her.

"Ah yes, well that does happen sometimes when she drinks." Hermione had covered Draco's eyes with her hands as soon as she saw the other girl and frowned when Pansy's old friend admitted her tendencies with certainty.

"What are you doing out of bed, Pansy?" Ron asked patiently, pushing her hair out of her eyes.

"Bathroom. I don't feel so good." Pansy mumbled, leaning to the side and almost falling as she scratched the back of one leg with her other. Ron caught her around the waist and held her up.

"I'm coming over." Draco said firmly, ripping Hermione's hands from his eyes with a gentle reminder that it wasn't something that he hadn't seen before, an assurance that earned him nothing but a clip around the ear by his girlfriend.

"I'm sure he has everything under control." Hermione said soothingly, bringing her hands back up over his eyes.

"I really do. Draco, I swear that I will take care of her." Ron waved his hand at his fireplace and it went out in a flurry of sparks, leaving the two of them alone in his apartment. Pansy gave up all pretense that she was able to stand on her own and clutched the front of Ron's shirt for support. Ron patted her head, carefully avoiding looking at anything inappropriate. "I'll take care of you."

He carried Pansy to his bathroom and set her up in front of the toilet while he went to go brew a cup of tea. He returned, after a moment to hold her hair back as everything she'd eaten in the last twenty four hours made a reappearance. Admittedly, it wasn't much, and she continued to retch far longer than there was contents of her stomach. He waited with her until her heaves stopped and the whistling of the kettle was impossible to be ignored.

He returned with the cup of solid, fortifying, good old English tea that might have resembled primordial sludge if one were to be honest because he still hadn't quite caught on to the idea of how to brew a decent cup of tea. He also returned with a large T-shirt that he coaxed over her head, in exchange for the tea, keeping it just out of her grasping fingers until she put it on. He finally could look at her without blushing. Pansy leaned back against his cabinets, her legs unfurling over his to brace against the tub as she tipped her head back to swirl the tea in her mouth, getting rid of the taste of vomit. Ron rubbed her calves as she finished her tea. Pansy flashed him an annoyed look, but allowed him to continue his ministrations.

"Feeling better?" Ron asked, pulling her legs into his lap and patting her shins.

"Yes, much, thank you." Pansy said, pulling the T-shirt down to cover herself more modestly.

"Let's get you back to bed then, shall we?" Ron asked and Pansy nodded, allowing herself to be pulled up by her hand.

"I still-" She poked him hard in the chest. "Don't like you. Even though you're being nice."

"I understand." Ron nodded. Then he frowned. "No, I don't understand. Why?"

"I just-just. You kissed me!" Pansy accused, smacking his chest lightly.

"Yes, yes I did." Ron said, smiling in remembrance. He'd really liked that kiss for the whole split second it happened. "I liked it a lot, and I'm a bit confused that you didn't."

"So it's just okay to force women to do whatever you want? How disgusting." Pansy glared at him. She ripped herself away from him and mumbled, "Just like Pierre."

"Is that what he did to you?" Ron asked, leaning over but not touching her. She made no move to stumble away and was holding on to the sink. She'd been surprisingly tight lipped about the whole affair and would tell no one the actual circumstances surrounding the court case. Since the case was in France, no one was able to put a lean on the governmental influences to tell them the truth. "Pansy, I kissed you because I thought you wanted me to. You'd been staring at my mouth every time I ate anything with juices for a week, I thought that-" Ron frowned. "Obviously I was wrong. Your stabbing my foot with your stiletto was very clear on that."

"I was scared. You wouldn't let me go." Pansy said, staring at her toes.

"I wasn't paying attention after you started kissing me back, I was a bit busy."

"I didn't!"

"You definitely kissed me back."

"I-ugh!" She rubbed her face in her hands, refusing to give into the urge to bicker like a child with him. He reached out a tentative hand and pulled her into a safe hug.

"What happened, Pansy?" Ron's voice was soft and concerned as his hand stroked comfortingly on her back. "What did he do to you?"

"We'd-" Pansy started and then paused. She pulled her head back to stare at him for a moment before burying it in his chest again. When her voice came again, it was muffled and quiet, making him strain to hear every word carefully. "-We'd only been dating for a few months, and I'd said that I wasn't ready yet and he said he was tired of waiting and so he tried to-tried to-He hit me and held me down and he tried to!" She shivered in his arms. "And I couldn't tell Draco because he'd kill him and I don't really know anyone else well enough and -and-and it was my favorite blouse and he _ruined_ it!"

Ron had to fight a smile at the last bit but considering it was easily the most traumatizing event in Pansy's life, he decided it deserved a little respect. He held her as she began to cry, finally letting loose all the emotions that had been surging in her, that led her to seek shelter at the bar, drinking enough alcohol to numb herself into oblivion. Draco had been deathly worried when the only thing Pansy had been was unfailingly polite and cold towards everyone. Him, her mother, and the press, were all treated equally with a distressing ambivalence.

Draco sent Ron after her because he was the only one who was likely to break through the shell seeing as she would unfailingly get angry at him, though Draco had accurately deduced it was because she cared more about the way he thought about her more than anyone else, insane as that may be. Come hell or high water, Pansy Parkinson would never fail to react to Ron Weasley. Ron let her cry herself out, amazed that it took her getting completely smashed and having a comforting shoulder that wasn't Draco to get her bleed out the poison. Ron held her until her shoulders stopped quaking and she went still completely.

"Come on, to bed with you." Ron said, picking her up bridal style with a slight grunt because she was no stick thin sprig and he was not a beast. She put her arms around his neck fearfully now that her feet were up off of the ground. The floor was spinning wildly once she was no longer flat footed on it, and she clutched at his shoulders. Ron, for his part, valiantly ignored his hands on her thighs, on her rib cage, her arms around his neck and her hot breath on his neck. When he made it back to his room, he tucked her back into bed, or at least tried to, until her arms gripped around his neck couldn't be shifted. He sighed and, realizing that he was going to die when Draco found him tomorrow anyway, he climbed into bed with Pansy and draped an arm over Pansy's waist.

When Pansy woke the next morning, she was cuddled up against something warm, with something heavy holding her down. She fought violently for a moment, accidentally shoving Ron off of the bed to hit the floor.

"Whazzat?" He mumbled intelligently from the floor, looking around, confused. Pansy clapped a hand to her chest, breathing hard.

"Sorry." Pansy said, trying to get a breath. "I just-just can't. Not right now."

"It's okay." Ron said, rubbing at his eyes with the heel of his hands.

"Just don't press down on me with your huge gorilla arms. " Her voice raised and she winced, putting a hand to her head. She muttered, "You incompetent peasant."

Ron grinned sheepishly back at her up through his fingers, and remarked, "Is that how you show gratitude, insulting people?"

"That wasn't insulting. Insulting would be that you are a miserable, vomitous waste of space upon which I wouldn't spit on if you were on fire." Pansy paused, considering the fine piece of work that sentence was. Ron began to laugh. Pansy kicked him lightly with the ball of her foot. "That, sweetheart, was insulting."

"You really are a piece of work, aren't you?" Ron stood, coming forward to kneel on the bed with her. In response, Pansy scooted over and flopped back down, allowing him to lay down next to her. He pulled the hair away from her face and tucked it over her shoulder, detangling it with his fingers. He paused to ask incredulously, "Sweetheart?"

"Oh hush, it's a perfectly acceptable pet name." Pansy said sharply, hitting him in the face with her shoulder.

"How delightful." And then, as Pansy Parkinson decided that perhaps she wouldn't mind contracting the disease that was known as Weasley freckles, Ron Weasley, finding an armful of Pansy to be the best thing ever, did something stupid. Ron asked happily, "Does this mean we're dating now?"

"Not on your life." At Pansy's vehement reply, Ron went flat on his back, tucking a hand behind his head. Pansy wiggled over, flopping halfway on him, tangling a leg in his. Ron just looked at her, his eyebrows knitted together as she sighed and went back to sleep.

* * *

AN: I do rather like writing Pansy/Ron and for anyone who reads this, could you please push the pretty review button and let me know if you like Pansy even though she is a total...ahem...not nice lady. There may be cookies in it for you, or that may be false advertising...


	4. And a biscuit

Three Hot Teas and a Biscuit is a work of fanfiction and I cannot be held liable for any resemblance to real people. The world is J.K. Rowlings but I do maintain the rights to the words that I use to play in it.

The setting of this story is drawn from my Draco/Hermione AU which can be found on my Deviantart account, and soon to be here. When I can work up the motivation and find the time.

Rating: T

part 4/4

Happy reading!

* * *

And a biscuit....

Pansy took up residence in Ron's house much as he had done in hers in France, the two of them engaging in the dance they perfected previously. Her mother came through the floo a few times to drop off clothes for her, making sure to sniff disparagingly at everything that Pansy allowed her to see, which admittedly wasn't much as Pansy didn't let her get more than two or three steps past the fireplace. Pansy didn't want to go home as the paparazzi were still parked on her front lawn and Draco's house contained Hermione and the other half of the press that weren't stalking her. Draco, predictable as always, showed up as an oncoming storm, with Hermione tugging on his hand urgently. As he lunged for Ron, Pansy neatly tripped him, sending him crashing into the bookshelves with a loud exclamation.

"Woman!" Draco shrieked manfully, climbing back out of the wreckage.

"Arrogant, self-obsessed, drama queen!" Pansy retorted, she paused to give Ron an aside of, "_That _was insulting." Before continuing to verbally abuse Draco. "Rotten tosspot of a psychologically induced cross breed!"

"That one didn't even make sense!" Draco howled, throwing a book at Pansy in frustration.

"It sounded good!" Pansy screeched back, throwing the book with much better aim, hitting him in the shoulder. Hermione squeaked and ducked for cover. Draco caught the book on the rebound and stared at Pansy for a moment.

"That it did. Now, can I have a hug?" Draco asked, putting out his hands.

"Fine. Though you know how I abhor bodily contact." Pansy said, submitting to the embrace with a long suffering look. Ron snorted loudly, thinking immediately about the fact that she had been sleeping draped on top of him for the last few hours and in response, Pansy trod heavily on his foot as she retreated from Draco's smothering love. Ron just barely managed to keep a strait face, and Pansy smiled sweetly.

"I was so worried about you." Draco said, helping Hermione up off of the floor where she had taken cover, a carryover from being on the run with Harry.

"Yes, well, the hideously overlarge gorilla has some uses. Apparently, taking care of me while I am completely incapable of coherent thought due to inebriation is one of them." Pansy patted Ron's arm softly, giving him a look that wasn't a glare, a vast improvement over how she usually treated him. Not quite the look of glowing adoration he would have liked, but Pansy didn't really seem the type. If he wanted that, he should have stuck with Marinè. "Don't think for one moment that I didn't know you were behind this, though."

"I await trembling, for reciprocity." Draco said, tipping a salute at her. Hermione rolled her eyes, well used to their banter and finding them hilarious only lasted until she was ten minutes late to their next appointment due to the fact that Draco was reluctant to leave until he got the last word.

"Check your bed, every night, sweetheart." Pansy warned, her tone saccharine as a honey glazed cinnamon role. She glanced at his girlfriend. "Sorry Hermione, no offense meant I assure you."

"None taken, but just remember, I sleep on the left." Hermione said, recalling the last time Pansy got angry at Draco and decided to do something about it. Crawling into bed and finding it full of chocolate frogs that were starting to melt as they wiggled around in the sheets was not the most pleasant thing in the world. "Darling, we have to get back to the house or we'll find it torn apart."

"Ron, my threat still stands." Draco warned, as Hermione shoved him back in the fire. He could be heard garbling 'Malfoy Manor', as she jumped in behind.

"Threat?" Pansy turned to Ron, quirking an eyebrow. "Is Draco pretending that he can protect me again?"

"Oh but give him credit, he tries so hard." Ron said, following Pansy into the kitchen as she began to clean up after the breakfast he'd cooked for her while she was regretting the fact that the concept of morning existed and was wailing away in his bed. Pansy washed the dishes and handed them to him with an expectant look on her face and merely looked pleased as he pulled out a dry towel with a sigh.

"I find a sort of visceral satisfaction in washing the dishes, but I do quite abhor drying, as it encourages drying of the skin on the hands." Pansy explained where not only two months ago she would have sniffed and turned the music up to drown him out. It was great progress. She even managed to smile at him as she handed him the last dish.

Five weeks later, she was still doing his dishes, sleeping in his bed and had, for all intensive purposes, moved in completely with half her clothes in his closet and her china migrating to his cabinets. He had plaintively asked if they had gotten married and he hadn't noticed or perhaps missed the ceremony and she replied that if so, she had missed when he asked, which was a rather large disappointment due to the fact that it would give her another golden opportunity to insult and mock him. When he looked at her speculatively, she choked out,

"Don't. Just don't."

And that was the end of it, as she refused to talk to him until he changed the subject. Then she was back to being petulant and selfish, ignoring the fact that this was actually his house and she couldn't treat him like she had in France. He rolled his eyes and played his part patiently, enjoying the view of her bustling about in her very short shorts that he never even knew she had and skimpy tanks that really didn't qualify as a shirt anymore, and showed off far more skin than really was needed. It also meant that he had some long serious discussions with himself in the bathroom and discovered a predilection for cold showers. Very long, very cold showers that were useless the minute she pranced past in her skimpy house wear. It got old quickly.

"Pansy, what are you doing?" Ron asked as she peeled back his covers to slide into his bed. He didn't mind per se, but it was getting frustrating having her curled around him and not being able to do anything about it. He had to roll his eyes back and count to ten as her leg brushed by a sensitive area so as not to do anything ungentlemanly. Then he had to repeat this as she did it again, just to watch his reaction with an evil chuckle.

"I am going to bed." She said, matter of factly, wiggling next to him like an eel in his bedcovers.

"I got that." Ron managed, breathlessly. He gulped and then continued with a steadier and more manly voice. "I meant here, in my apartment with me.

"Oh Ron," Pansy sighed, exasperated. She draped herself over his chest and stared up at him appealingly to wibble her bottom lip. "Can't you just leave well enough alone?"

"I have been leaving things alone. I have been leaving everything so alone that I'm about to go crazy!" Ron said, shoving Pansy off of him and lunging out of the bed. "And stop distracting me, I'm serious."

"Such a sad proposition, for you to be serious." Pansy said, sitting up and turning to put her back on the wall. She took his covers with her as she curled her legs in front of her, resting her elbows on her knees, completing the destruction of his carefully made bed that she knew drove him up a wall. She stared at his face for a moment and then kicked the corner, dislodging the sheet in a fit of pique. Ron covered his eyes and breathed through his nose for a few seconds to regain his composure. "Sad and futile endeavor."

"Pansy." Ron began, "This is about you and me, and no more maybes. I can't stay in this state of almost."

Pansy opened her mouth, then shut it. She looked at him appraisingly, holding her head up with her hand. "I don't understand."

"I love you, Pansy." Ron said it easily, like he'd been thinking it for a long time, brewing it in the back of his brain until it bubbled out his mouth. Pansy's head dropped off of her hand and stared at him, her mouth opening into a soft "o". "I do, and so this halfway living is...difficult."

"I'm sure." Pansy said, getting over her shock to let a small smile curl her mouth. She propped her head back up on her hand and cocked it to the side.

"Yes. So I need an answer, are we together? Call it dating or courting or just together, I don't care." Ron fidgeted his fingers together for a moment as Pansy stared at him. He paused and then stared hard at her. "Can I kiss you?"

"I don't know about the together part, but yes, Ron Weasley, you can kiss me." She said slowly, reaching out a hand, palm up to pull him back on to the bed with her.

"Thank merlin." Ron said fervently, practically leaping onto the covers. He cradled her face in his hands, pressing her against the wall as his lips crashed onto hers in wild enthusiasm. She made a whimpering noise in the back of her throat, and tried to squirm away. Ron, realizing that crushing her was not in his best interests, gathered her up in his arms and fell backward, bringing her to lay on his chest, completely unrestricted. After that, Pansy was able to calm down, knowing that if she wanted to escape, he would let her, and really didn't have much of a way to stop her. She broke the kiss to lay her forehead on his chin for a moment.

"Ron Weasley, you are a overlarge, redhaired buffoon of a gorilla," Pansy began and Ron rumbled in protest. "However, I am willing to accept that you may, and I stress the conditional property of the word may, have some redeeming properties."

Ron didn't say a word, he just lifted her chin so she could look into his eyes and let the biggest, goofiest grin break open on his face. Pansy couldn't help but laugh as his freckled nose scrunched and his cheeks puffed outward from stretched skin. She poked his cheeks with a sharp fingernail and then put her head back on his chest.

"You look like an idiot. But I love you anyway." Pansy's voice was muffled.

"I am an idiot, I like you don't I?"

"I'm going to hurt you."

"Not there!" Ron's voice rose half an octave. "_Not there!_"

Pansy chuckled.

When the Media got hold of their whirlwind romance, Pansy and Ron were dogged continuously for the details, as it was rather hard to ignore the fact that eligible bachelor Ron Weasley and socialite Pansy Parkinson had abruptly moved in with each other and subsequently filed for marriage, but amazingly enough, no one seemed to have the details. The two of them were surprisingly tight lipped about the whole affair and when asked directly,

"What exactly happened between you and millionaire Ron Weasley?" The reporter asked easily, shoving a spelled quill under Pansy's nose. Pansy chuckled evilly and then revealed,

"You see, this is all an elaborate and diabolical plan involving Draco, Hermione, Ron and me in which Draco and I will corrupt all of the spawn of said unions." She confided, pouring herself another tumbler of brandy and peppermint. She was wearing her favorite red dress, after the one she burned after the fiasco with Pierre. "It's a pity really that Harry is quite fond of Ginny as he remains incorruptible and he looks rather fetching with no shirt. Getting his incessantly noble genes out of the pool would make it fathoms easier for the next dark lord, but two out of three isn't bad. And there's always the children, I'm sure that we can breed the good out of them with Draco's hellions."

At which point Ron wandered over and indulgently took her brandy away before covering her mouth and whisking her off to dance. As he twirled her gracefully, she threw back her head to laugh. Ron and Pansy were determinately, stubbornly happy and when asked, there was no one that could deny that they were an unexpectedly ideal match.


End file.
